


Alright for Now

by sanguisuga



Series: Aberrant Fragments [1]
Category: BBC Sherlock, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Guitar, Johnstrade, M/M, One Shot, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Romance, Short & Sweet, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:36:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3877408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguisuga/pseuds/sanguisuga
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt from "Sherlock Rare Pair Bingo".</p><p>The prompt was "instrument", and I've chosen John & Greg as my pairing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alright for Now

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time trying out this prompt thingy, so I hope my regular readers get a thrill out of it. Probably just a one-shot, although since there's a distinct lack of any of my usual porny goodness, I might have to continue it. Although I kind of like where it ended, so maybe not!
> 
> Not beta'ed or brit-picked, since it's just for fun.

John swallowed uneasily as he followed Greg up the stairs to his flat. After moving into 221B Baker Street all those months ago, they had fallen into an easy camaraderie together. Especially when it came to commiserating about the reason that they had even met in the first place - The Great Consulting Prat, Sherlock Holmes. All in all, it had been a pleasant enough association, just two blokes getting together at the pub from time to time, swapping stories and sharing an easy laugh over a pint or two.

But then John had started to notice things, the kind of things that he usually only noticed when he was in a romantic frame of mind. Just those tiny physical attributes that drew his attention and refused to let his imagination go. The way Greg's deep brown eyes would crinkle around the edges when he grinned, the throaty rumble of his unguarded laughter. The sheen of his frankly gorgeous silver hair in the dim light of the pub, the way he would tap his broad fingers in time to whatever music might be playing over their heads. If there wasn’t a match on the telly, of course. John even found the blistering curses that would fly from Greg’s lips when Arsenal cocked something up to be terribly endearing for some odd reason. Probably because he was surprisingly creative with his verbal abuse - so much so that it was almost poetry.

He had long ago realised that he had a crush, but he enjoyed Greg’s company too much to admit it to him. After the turmoil that was his life with his mad genius of a flatmate, he needed something solid to ground himself to. His friendship with the Detective Inspector was too precious a thing, both to his life and his sanity, for him to risk a confession. Even if he had caught Greg stealing questioning glances at him from time to time - that didn’t really mean anything, and it could have just been wishful thinking on his part all the same.

So he maintained some sense of distance, at least as much as he could stand. He would wait for Greg’s call after a particularly difficult case rather than making the call himself, but he would always instantly agree to whatever time or place the older man set. He would often be there before Greg even arrived, waiting in their favourite corner booth. John’s heart would damn near trip in his chest when he would slide into the booth next to him, spreading his arms along the back and letting out a deep, world-weary sigh as he would throw his head back. God, he wanted nothing more than to draw that silver head down into his lap, so he could stroke his brow and soothe all of the man’s troubles away.

This evening, though, it seemed as though something was a bit different. Although he had an enormous amount of stress in his life, Greg’s demeanour was generally a fairly cheerful one. He practically exuded strength and confidence even while bitching about the latest confrontation between Sherlock and his team, the troubles with his ex-wife, the ache in his knees - whatever. This time, he was abnormally quiet, and John could swear maybe even a bit nervous. But then that was probably him projecting his own emotions, as per usual. Greg looked around at the crowd, glanced up at the television, then heaved out a great sigh as he fixed his dark eyes on John’s face.

“You wanna get out of here?”

John was a little shocked to find himself nodding vigorously, and he silently followed as Greg walked out, letting him lead him where he may. They didn’t speak much beyond commenting on the pleasantness of the evening as they walked, and although John’s stomach was roiling with uncertainty, his head was surprisingly clear. Whatever this was, whatever it could be, he would follow Greg’s lead. And it seemed that the path he was taking was straight to his front door.

He reached in to snap a light on before gesturing John to walk in ahead of him. “It’s not much, I know, but it is at least mine.” Greg flashed a quick smile at him as he shucked off his mack and suit jacket. He hung them up and then held out his hand for John’s jacket, waving vaguely at the sofa. “Have a seat. You want a bottle of something, or maybe even a wee dram of something stronger?”

John sat on one end of the sofa and tried to arrange his body into something vaguely resembling a relaxed posture. “Actually, if you don’t mind... Tea is what I’d really like.”

Greg’s face broke out into a broad grin. “Don’t mind at all. To be honest, that’s exactly what I was wanting as well.” He turned toward the kitchen and spoke a bit louder to be heard over the running water as he filled the kettle. “Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing like a night out to shake a bit of the stress off, but sometimes, being at home with tea and pleasant company is just what the doctor ordered.”

He ducked his head out of the kitchen and tossed a wink at John, and the smaller man was mortified to hear a giggle burst from his lips. Greg’s eyes widened slightly before he vanished back into the kitchen, where there was a flurry of noisy activity, cupboard doors opening and closing, the distinct crinkle of a biscuit wrapper. John stared across the room at a set of bookshelves and finally decided to give in to his curiosity, standing and crossing over to them before taking in the titles. He was not entirely surprised to find that the well-worn books were all rather Raymond Chandler-esque, and he giggled again at the covers, all silhouettes of scantily-clad ladies with various weapons in their hands or ropes around their necks.

He heard a quiet chuckle from somewhere off to his left and behind, and he swiftly spun in place. Greg was standing next to the coffee table, where he had just deposited their mugs of tea and an open packet of biscuits. “Dreadful, aren’t they?”

John thumbed through the one in his hand, noting the many dog-eared pages. “Apparently well-loved, though.”

Greg shrugged as his cheeks went a trifle pink. “It’s an escape, y’know?”

John stared at him in disbelief. “Greg, you _are_ a detective. I would think to escape you would read - I dunno - sci-fi or something. I don’t read _‘The Adventures of the Ex-Army Medico’_ in my downtime.” He threw up his hands as Greg cast him an extremely dubious look. “No, that’s not a real book. Or, at least I don’t think it is. I was just making a point, you damn fool.”

He carefully slotted the pulp novel back into place and looked off to his right, shaking his head as Greg continued to chuckle at him good-naturedly. There was a chair off in the corner, and something... Something very intriguing tucked up behind it. Greg suddenly fell quiet as John strode over, feeling his heart once again tripping a little too strongly in his chest.

“Is - do you play?”

Greg’s fingers twisted awkwardly in front of him as his cheeks warmed once again. “Used to play electric when I was younger. In a band and all, but it was mostly us just beating on our equipment and making a lot of noise. Punk, y’know.” John put a hand to his mouth to hide his grin, but Greg just flapped a hand at him. “Yeah, it was ridiculous. But lately I’ve been trying it out again. I’m still a bit clumsy, but I’m getting better.”

“Play for me.” The blood in John’s veins flared red-hot for a moment before he realised how abrupt and rude that had sounded, but he could see even from across the room that Greg’s eyes had somehow gone darker at his tone. “Please. I-I mean, if you’d like to play, I’d very much like to hear it.”

Greg bit his lip, but nodded slightly before moving across the room and taking the guitar out from behind the chair. He settled down on the edge of the seat as John sat down on the sofa, reaching out for his tea as Greg fiddled idly with this and that. He took in a deep breath as he started to pluck at the strings, fumbling a couple of times before falling into a steady rhythm. John sat mesmerised, watching those broad fingers tripping over the strings and the fretboard, listening to the soft tone of something vaguely familiar drifting through the air. His pacing was a bit jerky, perhaps, but it was still far better than John could ever play, and watching how Greg’s face relaxed into something utterly tranquil made him somehow feel at peace as well.

Then he closed his eyes and opened his mouth, and John realised that he was going to sing, and that was when every nerve in his body suddenly lit up like it was bloody Christmas morning.

 _Goodnight baby, sleep tight my love_  
_May God watch over you from above_  
_Tomorrow I'm workin' what would I do_  
_I'd be lost and lonely if not for you_  
_So close your eyes_  
_We're alright for now_  
_I've spent my life travelin'_  
_Spent my life free_  
_I could not repay all you've done for me_  
_So sleep tight baby_  
_Unfurrow your brow_  
_And know I love you_  
_We're alright for now_  
_We're alright for now_

God. Oh, God. It was suddenly much more than just a stupid crush, now it was an infatuation because his voice, oh dear God, that voice, so warm and gentle, still a bit gravelly, oh - Greg’s voice filled him up in a way that he had not felt in a very, very long time. He almost couldn’t stand to look at him, just perched on the edge of a chair with a guitar on his knee. Such a simple sight, such a gorgeous one.

His own eyes fluttered shut as his body swayed to the music and he was barely even aware as it came to a smooth stop, Greg humming quietly along with the ending notes. John opened his eyes to find Greg staring at him, his eyes huge and dark, his lips turned up in a knowing smile. His confidence had returned, and John felt his own nervousness suddenly melting away. They both rose at the same time, and Greg held the guitar out to him.

He took it in confusion, cradling the instrument awkwardly to his chest. He shivered as Greg stepped up to him and gently turned him around until John’s back was pulled up to his front. He slipped the strap over John’s head before taking his left hand in his and placing it on the fretboard.

“Here.” He delicately manoeuvred his fingers so that they were pressing down in the proper place. “And here.” John held his breath, his head swimming, as Greg ran his fingers down the back of his hand, all too aware of the roughness of his calluses scraping over his flesh. He slipped his right arm underneath John’s, reaching around him to pluck at the strings, humming quietly in his ear. “Now you.” Greg withdrew his arm but didn’t go far, resting his hand on John’s hip. “Your turn.”

John shook his head and stared down at the guitar under his hands blankly. He honestly expected him to play? For Christ’s sake, he could barely even remember his own name, never mind whichever strings Greg had just been fiddling with. “Greg…” He felt his face flush at the breathy tone of his own voice, clearing his throat before trying again. “I can’t - can’t think...”

Greg hummed again, this time wrapping his right arm around John’s waist and pulling him in tighter. “My playing in’t that good, mate.”

John groaned and let his head fall back on Greg’s shoulder before he found himself chuckling quietly. “No. No, it isn’t.”

“Oi!” But there was laughter in his voice as well, and that was it, that was perfect, just what he needed, maybe even what they both needed. He let Greg take the guitar from around his neck, let him step away to set it down, but as soon as he had turned back, John stepped right up to him and wrapped one arm around his waist. Greg blinked down at him calmly, raising one hand and running his thumb under his eye. “Blue. They’re blue.” He smiled softly. “Never could tell in the pub, it was always so dim and dank.” His eyes darted down to John’s mouth, and he licked his lips subconsciously. “I would very much like to kiss you. If you have any objections, now would be the time to tell me.”

John instantly went up on his toes and pressed his mouth to Greg’s, whimpering quietly at the sheer deliciousness of it, at his taste and his smell, at the feeling of his solid body as he pulled him in close, closer, his arms tightening around him until it seemed that he might never let him go. And that was right, that was as it should be.

He let Greg lead, let him shuffle him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the sofa, let him lay him down and hover over him and kiss and touch, pure wonder in his eyes as they discovered so many new and fantastic things about each other. Yes, there would be questions, and explanations, and oh God, Sherlock, what would he tell Sherlock? But none of that mattered right then, right in that moment. No, whatever was to come, they were alright for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, and if anyone is curious, the song is called 'Alright for Now', and it's by Tom Petty. It's a gorgeous little song, and you can find it on the Full Moon Fever album.


End file.
